The Clorox*

On a warm sunny day,
In a small quiet ville,
Alone sat the Clorox,
On a small grassy hill.

All of the people
Were fine on that day
Until the mean Dirtys
Came rushing their way.

“STOP!” “DESIST!”
“Be on your way!”
The citizens shouted,
And shouted did they.

The Dirtys, truth told,
Were vile and cruel,
So they stomped and they stamped
And they dirtied the school.

Then they moved on,
Tarnished the rest of the ville,
And the Clorox saw all,
Up high on his hill.

With haste and with hurry,
He rushed to the people,
But the town was just dirty,
From round up to steeple.

“Help us!” said they,
“The Dirtys are back!
they’re dirty and mean
And they’ve launched an attack!”

The Clorox jumped up,
ran after the fiends,
Then said “Stop what you’re doing,
or I must intervene!”

The Dirtys just laughed,
And they chuckled and smiled,
And this made the Clorox
More ruffled and riled!

With a flick of his wrist,
Water appeared in the air,
and washed all the Dirtys,
Hands, feet and hair.

The Dirtys, now clean,
We’re puzzled and awed,
It seemed that their hearts,
Had finally been thawed!

“All of our lives,
we’ve been dirty and pocked,
and we have been mean
because we have been mocked.”

“So thank you, dear Clorox,
for bringing us back!”
“You have certainly, most certainly
cleaned up our act!”

And so on that day,
In the small quiet ville,
Friends had been made,
And they are there still.

© 2012 Andrew K. Janson

* Clorox is a registered trademark of The Clorox Company